“[Depuis Les Profondeurs De Sang],” Hans chanted as his pen made contact with the book in front of him, the same line of words forming on the left page, along with a murky painting on the right depicting a dark red moon dripping blood.

Rakna reacted violently to the chant.

The words were spoken in another language, recognizably French, as a lexis. As per the nature of the ‘words of power’, the translation of the System didn’t work and he couldn’t understand it. He would have normally launched a translation program with Eye of Symphony, or even wondered if Hans came from a parallel version of Earth, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

It felt as if the lexis had stabbed his heart. Without wasting even a second, the werewolf put his all into Star Flash and simultaneously, Rift Shuttle manifested around him, distorting space itself. His body blurred, the signs of Ripple of Rupture, and he took a step forward in a punching stance.

In the fastest action he had ever performed, Rakna flashed out and in of existence right in front of his opponent as if he had teleported. His fist was already on its way, filled with Intent, and strong enough to blow off Hans’ whole upper body.

Shockingly, however, the storyteller moved in advance and took on the punch with nothing but the tip of his writing instrument, which manifested into existence the word ‘Impact’ in red letters instead of the normal black.

The impact of Rakna’s fist was instantly ‘erased’ but the shockwave and dimensional cracks spread out around them, causing a massive depression in the air. The wind flowed in and the water below bafflingly rose for a few meters before falling back.

“[Le Cœur Brisé D’une Bête Sans Amour Chante Ses Échos,]” Hans calmly continued his tale even as Rakna swung Sonata with his other hand, extending into a scythe to minimize the chances of escape.

A second illustration appeared on Hans' floating book. A heart half ice, half fire, obscured by a dark world devoid of light. He then felt the weapon dangerously closing in; the curved blade enclosing his back.

“[Fold of One,]” Hans muttered and Sonata cut through his body. But nothing like blood came out of that wound. He was bisected, but his expression remained the same, then a second later, both body pieces turned into a swarm of papers.

Half of it reformed Hans’ body some distance away while the remaining half each grew bigger and turned into complete books. The dozens of books then opened at the same time and a magic circle formed in front of them, generating different magic elements.

“[Arcana Order – Macabre Firework,]” the blue-haired man intoned and each grimoire shot its magical energy. The elements merged into one and turned white as they threatened to consume the werewolf.

Rakna growled and his tails channeled the lunar energy they contained. It gathered inside his maw where the silver light began to escape through the gaps of his fangs. At the same time, hoarfrost energy was joining in as well.

“[Lunar Star Howl,]” he roared out and a wave of energy surged out of his mouth. The two attacks collided and burst into a twin-colored halo that overtook the sky.

“[Comme Une Cloche Sonnant La Fin D’Un Temps Vécu,]” Hans continued his incantation, calmly riding the shockwave, and the third page of the tale book welcomed the depiction of a lonely black wolf walking through snow. Afterward, the storyteller raised his pen to the sky above him before the werewolf resumed his assault.

The incongruous tool poured color into the atmosphere and hundreds of spears, large enough to hunt giants, were sketched. Then, Hans snapped the fingers of his free hand. “[Conjuration,]” he muttered and the spears materialized.

They all shot off at tremendous speed, clearly aiming at Rakna. Furthermore, midway, Hans wrote the words ‘Accelerate Spears’ and ‘Strengthen Spears’; doing exactly what they implied.

“[Call of Hounds,]” the werewolf riposted and summoned hundreds of wind-elemental wolves to counter each spear. At the same time, he switched Sonata to its twin-katana mode and triggered two mana bursts at once from his wings.

He used Star Flash at the same time and dashed toward Hans, who calmly called upon the books he had summoned just before, and used his quill to change their nature into swords.

Right when Rakna entered striking range, one of the grimoire swords flew into his hand for him to parry Sonata. It instantly broke but was replaced by another right after. Like that, both of them began a chase that could barely be followed with the naked eye.

Rakna was obviously incredibly fast in the air with his wings and skills, but Hans was surprisingly elusive as well. It was not the same ‘kind’ of speed; it was calculated moves. He would sometimes use his Word Magic to create sporadic increases in his agility, boost his instant-travel ability with his Rewrite, or even switch locations with a book in the vicinity in the blink of an eye.

During that time, he continued his ominous chant. The book received two new entries; a broken glass spilling the water being poured inside of it, and a wolf with a beating heart in its maw and a sea of corpses under it.

“[Creux Et Abattu, Une Âme Avide, Il Ne Conçois Nullement La Valeur De Lui-Même.]”

“[S’Il Fut Un Jour Où L’Occasion Se Porte, Son Arrogance Détruira Autrui.]”

“[Ainsi, Est-Il Correct De Lui Concéder La Gloire Qu’est L’Orgueil?]” Hans spoke this line as they crossed arms again, and behind the lens of his glasses, one could see the hostility instilled into that specific sentence.

“The pride and duty you believe in are a lie,” he uttered and Rakna’s eyes widened. “You do not deserve to uphold its values,” he added and his voice, imbued with a strange sense of oppression, made the werewolf lose strength in his limbs despite himself.

‘Divine Speech…’ Rakna remembered the odd proficiency he had seen in his status. It wasn’t a skill or a spell, it was a phenomenon invoked by the mere act of speaking. If one spoke the reality of truth, it would affect the one it was related to.

“[Bookmark,]” Hans immediately followed up and a rectangular piece of cardstock appeared in his hand. It was a spell he had been silently preparing for almost a minute.

While Rakna was unable to react as easily as normal, he hastily stuck the object onto his arm. Right away, the werewolf froze; he could not move, could not speak, could not attack; his story had been paused.

“That also means your story cannot be altered or ended,” the author whispered as he jumped back and landed in midair. “I cannot injure you nor can I kill you. But I can pull you into a new narration in that state,” he stated and turned the page of the book he had been illustrating and writing until now.

“Considering it is you, this will not hold you more than twenty seconds,” he added and raised his pen. “But that is more than enough.”

“[Un Mensonge Née D’Une Frayeur Infâme. Ton Devoir Est Une Excuse.]”

“[La Distance Entre Ton Cœur Et Ton Esprit, Que Tu Crois Nécessaire, Est Une Falaise.]”

“[Elle T’Avaleras Entier. Te Détruiras De L’Intérieur. Éjecté De Ce Triste Rêve.]”

“So, for you… I will grant you a rapid fall,” Hans declared and turned the book’s page, which had a bottomless cliff painted on it. The next image, a wolf sleeping in a shell of snow, was already being drawn.

“[Le Loup A Bien Trop Dormis. It Est Temps De Secouer La Neige.]”

“[Le Hurlement D’Hiver Ouvrira La Voie Vers La Berceuse D’Été.]”

Hans closed the book and tossed it. “[Unity Magic – Chronicle – Overwrite,]” he whispered and the book made contact with the werewolf. It merged with the latter’s body and immediately, the bookmark that had been binding him vanished and he started falling, his eyes shut and his body inert. Without interruption, Rakna dropped into the sea and sank.

“That bastard--!” Allan nearly leaped out in anger when he saw that. His canines were already in the process of elongating before Nyx curtly put her hand in front of him.

“Stop,” she said coldly and looked at Flavia whose eyes were unfocused and on the brink of frenzy. “You too. Don’t get carried away. He’s alive. He also won’t die from drowning. You know that.”

The Chaos Witch trembled and frantically shook her head to clear her head, covering her forehead for a moment. “I’m sorry…” She whispered but that did not stop her or any of her companions to give Hans a sharp glare as he slowly floated down toward them.

The blue-haired man was getting younger at a speed visible with the naked eye, his hair becoming shorter as if it was rewinding time, and his clothes shrinking and reverting to their original state.

When Hans landed on his island, he had fully returned to his child-self. His unique pen was gone and the glasses artifact he had used in his older form were stored back. The boy exhaled rather loudly, a bead of sweat going down his face.

“Oi, what did you do to him?” Higure eventually asked, her tone perfectly even, but there was no hiding the threat hidden behind it. “It may sound hypocritical from someone who willfully let you two duke it out, but if I don’t like your answer, I promise to kill you.”

“…” He looked at them with dropped eyelids. Truly, if they all decided to attack him, he would have no chance of resisting. “I gave him his reward,” he stated succinctly.

“That was a reward?” Flavia uttered; her voice filled with venom.

Hans glanced at her and clicked his tongue. ‘What a crazy man he is, to keep such a dangerous one beside him,’ he commented inaudibly and turned toward the calm waters, where he had thrown the werewolf into. “You should thank me,” he said.

“Why? What was that last spell?” Evelyn raised her voice with a stony expression. The dark energy she occasionally manifested when upset was unconsciously gathering around her.

“And another one…” Hans muttered before pointing at the sea. “Just watch. And wait. Everything from now on purely depends on your dear wolf. Whether he returns or not, it is his resolve that will decide it. Though, it would be blasphemous for one with such fate to fall short today. He will pull through and wake up anew.”

* * *

Meanwhile, in an unknown realm, extended a boundless pasture ravaged by blizzards. Lost deep within, a nine-tailed wolf was asleep; the snow forming a thick blanket over him.

Dreaming, the wolf will succumb to the cold were he to fail to awaken in time.

---

From The Depths of Blood.

The Shattered Heart of a Beast Without Love Sings Its Echoes.

Like a Bell Ringing the End of a Time Bygone.

Hollow and Trampled, A Greedy Soul, He Perceives Naught of The Value of His Own Self.

Were a Day to Be, Where the Occasion Presents Itself, His Arrogance Will Destroy Others.

As Such, Is It Correct to Concede Him the Glory That is Pride?

A Falsehood Born from Abhorrent Fright. Your Duty Is an Excuse.

The Distance Between Your Heart and Spirit, Which You Believe Necessary, Is A Cliff.

It Will Swallow You Whole. Destroy You from The Inside. Ejected From This Sad Dream.

The Wolf Has Slept Far Too Much. It Is Time to Shake Off the Snow.

The Howling of Winter Will Open the Way to The Lullaby of Summer.